


all the promising lines

by silvergalaxy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Just Married, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergalaxy/pseuds/silvergalaxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wanna kiss?” Niall suggests kiddingly, wiggling his eyebrows and resting his chin on his fist, sending Harry his silliest grin. </p><p>“You’re gross, sweetheart. Why did I marry such a disgusting man?” Harry sighs, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. </p><p>“Because I make killer smoothies and I’m basically a professional cuddler,” Niall supplies.</p><p>or: Niall and Harry are newlyweds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the promising lines

**Author's Note:**

> laxmi colormenarry and i were gushing about domestic narry and i promised i'd write her some!! this is long overdue and not beta-ed, if you catch any embarrassingly awful typos please let me know xo

Niall likes this house loads more than their last one. He supposes it may have something to do with the fact that this one is _theirs_. Niall and Harry’s. With all of their favourite colours incorporated into the furnishings, their prized possessions and childhood photos adorning the sturdy walls. He remembers the day they went to check it out, hands intertwined and permanent smiles etched onto their faces. It was two months before the wedding when they officially moved to the spacious cottage, and it’s only gotten homier since. His favourite part of the house would probably be the mantle in the dining room, which houses a plethora of photos of he and Harry throughout the years, from their first photo together backstage on The X Factor to them walking up the aisle hand in hand, twinkly eyed and beaming. 

He’s walking up the front path now, a bag of groceries tucked under his arm as he fumbles for his keys with his hands - Harry always insists on keeping the doors locked as a precaution. There’s fresh soil in the flower beds under the front windows, waiting for new flowers to be planted. Niall rolls his eyes, because Harry was _supposed_ to finish that up while Niall was running errands.

Niall manages to open the door, shuffling inside before placing the food down, shutting and locking it before he ventures further into the house. Harry must’ve left the windows open, because it smells like fresh air and lilacs inside, and Niall takes a happy whiff while trudging through the rec room and into the kitchen. He passes Harry on his way through, still in pajamas watching early morning cartoons on the sofa. 

“Hello,” Niall whistles as he walks past, dropping a sweet kiss to the crown of Harry’s head.

“Back already?” Harry grins easily, stopping Niall from going any further by reaching behind him and pulling in on his small waist. He tilts his head back, eyes shining, hair soft and flat.

“Sure am,” Niall replies, rocking back and forth in his husband’s grip. His _husband’s_. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to saying that. “Thought I’d be longer did you? Explains why the flower beds aren’t done,” he teases lightly, pinching Harry’s upper arm. 

Harry shrugs sheepishly. “No, I thought I should wait so we could do it together. Good bonding experience for us, yeah?”

Niall huffs in amusement, his eyes lighting up with a gentle look. His mum calls it _The Harry Gaze_. Zayn calls it the lovestruck idiot. Niall supposes both are accurate. “I’m so sure, babe,” he laughs, detaching himself from a reluctant Harry and continuing into the kitchen, plopping the bags of groceries onto the counter and begins to unload the dairy products into the fridge. He’s dropping tomatoes into a compartment when Harry wanders in, sidling up behind him and situating his hands on Niall’s nimble hips once again. He lowers his chin onto Niall’s left shoulder, and places a tender kiss under his ear. 

“Missed you,” he murmurs, his hair tickling Niall’s neck.

“I was only gone for an hour,” Niall chuckles, but he tilts his head as an invitation for more kisses, his cheeks flushing as he preens under Harry’s undivided attention. Harry makes him feel special, and wanted like no one else ever could. The tiniest things he does make Niall swoon, his eyes going into full heart eye mode, sparkles and all. He’s so carelessly sweet, genuinely loving and spontaneous, unintentionally hilarious, and everything Niall could have ever possibly wished for. His hands are massaging small circles into Niall’s skin now, shirt rucked up past his tummy as the cool morning air tickles the fine hairs there. 

“That’s too long,” Harry laughs, his tongue peeking out of his mouth to poke foolishly at Niall’s cheek, causing him to squirm half heartedly, twisting around, shoulders hunched as he attempts to escape Harry’s antics. “Hush,” Harry laughs, tightening his grip. “You love it.”

“I do,” Niall concedes, spinning around to nuzzle into Harry’s chest, his nose meeting Harry’s cotton pajama shirt that still smells like the hot chocolate they drank last night before bed. They stay like that for a while, swaying back and forth with Niall’s arms twined around Harry and his fingers toying lightly with the hairs at the nape of Harry’s neck. “Want to help me put these away so we can cuddle a bit before lunch?”

“Is that even a question?” Harry says with wink, already opening the cupboards to stow away their new cereals.

It only takes them twenty minutes to get everything in it’s place. It would have taken shorter but Niall made a sneak kiss attack on Harry in the middle of stocking their junk food stash, and they kissed lazily until they realized the ice cream bucket was melting on the table. 

Once they reach the couch, Harry suggests a movie, and Niall gives him a look. “When have I ever liked watching movies in the morning? And why isn’t that illegal yet? Movies and mornings don’t go to together.”

Harry just shrugs and flips on The Food Network instead, scootching to the end of the couch so Niall can curl comfortably into his sturdy side. It’s Niall’s favourite resting place, Harry’s chest his favourite pillow. It’s terribly bright out, sunlight from the open windows filtering through the room and blocking out the top right corner of the television screen. Niall pretends it doesn’t bother him, because if he admitted it did it would mean moving from his warm spot next to Harry. And that was something he just wasn’t willing to do at the moment. 

They make it through two episodes of Hell’s Kitchen before Harry’s stomach starts grumbling. It’s pleasantly cool on the couch, and Niall has his socked feet tucked between two of the cushions. Harry’s arm is wrapped around his shoulders, but he manages to shrug it off as he slips off the couch into a standing position. 

“Lunch time?”

“Yeah. Tacos for us,” Harry crows, already bounding out of the room. Niall is hot on his trail, happy laughter bubbling up in his throat as he pads to the island, pulling himself onto a stool as Harry places all the necessary ingredients onto the countertop. 

They begin to cut, chopping their vegetables into small blocks as the meat sizzles away on the stove. Niall plunks a sliver of onion into his mouth, and Harry wrinkles his nose.

“Wanna kiss?” Niall suggests kiddingly, wiggling his eyebrows and resting his chin on his fist, sending Harry his silliest grin. 

“You’re gross, sweetheart. Why did I marry such a disgusting man?” Harry sighs, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. 

“Because I make killer smoothies and I’m basically a professional cuddler,” Niall supplies. Harry nods his head as if to say _true enough_ , then proceeds to rush to remove the pan from the stove before their lunch burns. Niall stands up too, getting salsa to drizzle across the top of the tacos and brightly coloured plates from the wooden cupboard above Harry’s head. 

“Excuse me,” he sing songs, reaching up to take the dishes down. Before he gets the chance, however, Harry lightly pushes his hand out of the way to haul the plates down themselves. “I could have reached that,” Niall huffs, frustrated.

“I bet you could have,” Harry croons. Niall wants to punch him in the face. Or kiss him. He isn’t quite sure himself. Jabbing Harry’s side with a pointy finger, Niall delivers a smooch to his cheek and takes the plates from his hands, setting them down to prepare his tacos. Tacos are something of a Sunday tradition in the Styles-Horan household, had been for years. Niall knows that Harry likes soft shells, and hates red onion, but sometimes Niall puts them in anyways, just to annoy him a little. 

Today though, Niall happily prepares the two meals the way he knows they both like them, as Harry rinses the knives and pan and turns on the dishwasher. 

“Teamwork,” he hums as he sits down beside Niall, giving him a tight squeeze and a chaste kiss, not even complaining about onion breath. 

Hours later, Niall finds himself atop the washing machine, legs spread wide with Harry standing in between, and his soft lips against his own. He tastes berries from the homemade yogurt Harry attempted to create earlier in the evening, his hair still damp from his shower. The laundry room is bright and airy despite the darkening sky outside, and Niall thinks idly about maybe buying a kitten to fill up all this empty space they don’t know what to do with. He’s brought back from his thoughts when Harry nips at his bottom lip, causing them to part slightly. 

“You were drifting off,” Harry mutters, placing kiss after kiss. 

“I was thinking about getting a pet,” Niall offers as an explanation, feeling slightly sheepish. His hands are resting on Harry’s love handles, periodically massaging the muscles. 

“We can talk about a pet later,” Harry huffs, fingers trailing over Niall’s neck, cupping his face tenderly. Always tenderly. “Focus on me now.”

“Okay,” Niall breathes out. He doesn’t think he’ll have any trouble with that.


End file.
